The Wayward Child
by arienduel
Summary: A series of drabbles exploring Parker's past, unravelling the events that have transformed Parker into who she is now. Mostly Parker-centric, but not without some team goodness.
1. The Wayward Child

A/N: This will be a series of drabbles exploring Parker's past. I have eight chapters outlined so far, but who knows what season 4 may reveal? All mistakes are mine. I hope it's not too OOC. Enjoy :)

_Disclaimer: I do not own Leverage._

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><p><strong>1. The Wayward Child<strong>

Parker was a thief.

She doesn't really remember how it all began, but somewhere along those early years of constant movement and displacement, she began to steal. A means of survival of a desperate foster child.

At first, as with all things, something small and innocuous. Like candy, or a bar of chocolate. There was Sally's lunch box, always filled with delicious sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies and a loving note from the mother (which earned a resentful glance before being crumpled up and thrown away).

By the time the school administration realized they had a thief on their hands, Parker had moved on to a different home and school. And even in those few unlucky instances when she was caught, they would let her go with little punishment, upon finding out she belonged to the system and that her foster parents didn't give a damn what Parker did.

Parker hated the teachers, their eyes always full of pity, always telling her help was there if she needed it (it never was), but she soon learned to use them to her advantage.

Most of the time, however, no one suspected that this quiet, bright-eyed child with wild blond hair, would be the culprit of so many things gone missing.

She began to steal bigger, better things: toys, shoes, and whole backpacks belonging to her classmates. Show and Tell were her favorite days of the year, when children brought their most treasured belongings for Parker to cherry pick.

That was how she found Mr. Bunny.

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><p>Sophie cradled the empty glass cup in her hands, unaware that it had long since dried up.<p>

"And then?" she asked.

Cuddled up on the opposite end of the couch from Sophie, Parker answered with a shrug. She rubbed Mr. Bunny affectionately, tracing lines in the fur, lost in reverie. Her cheeks were flushed from the alcohol and the warmth of the motel room they were holed up in for the duration of the blizzard.

Parker was oblivious to Sophie sharing looks with Nate and the boys who sat around a game of poker, as well as to Eliot replacing the empty bottle of wine with a new one.

Parker happily watched as her glass filled up again. Leaning back into the couch, she took a sip.

"And then... I blew up the house."


	2. The Explosion

A/N: Boy did I struggle with writing this one. It came out much differently from what I had envisioned. Please let me know what you guys make of it :)

Warning: Some language and heavy references to domestic violence and child abuse. Not very happy stuff.

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><p><strong>2. The Explosion<strong>

The front door slammed shut with a force that shook the walls. Then came the undoubtable stench of alcohol.

Oh, he was drunk tonight.

Parker stepped away from the banister and without making a sound, treaded her way to the bedroom. She grabbed Mr. Bunny from under the covers and made a beeline for the storage closet, ignoring the wary eyes of her "sisters."

Squeezing into the empty space between the boxes and letting coats and jackets fall around her, she found solace in the cover of darkness.

Parker had learned long ago that much of the time, it was better to hide, to remain invisible, than to face him.

There was a slap and a muffled cry of pain from downstairs, and Parker knew tonight was one of those nights.

Hugging Mr. Bunny tightly in her arms, Parker closed her eyes. _Please God. Please._

_Let this night be over quickly._

There was a long silence and she felt a glimmer of hope in that her prayers had been answered.

But her blood turned cold when heavy, unstable footsteps slowly made their way up the stairs.

That was the last time Parker ever prayed to God.

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><p>A bowl of colorful cereal was placed before Parker the next morning. This was her foster mother's way of telling the children that they had survived another night, to see the light of day, albeit with fresh bruises tactfully concealed under loose sweatshirts and jeans.<p>

Parker fought over the milk and dug into her bowl with gusto.

No one dared to mention that night would fall eventually.

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><p>It was late in the afternoon when Parker remembered she had left Mr. Bunny in the storage closet.<p>

The realization struck in the form of pure terror and she jumped from the swings much too quickly, causing her to trip in the sand and topple down onto the ground.

Parker lay there, breathing hard. Hot tears sprang from her eyes but they were quickly wiped away.

She slowly picked herself up and began to run down the street connecting the playground to the house.

Sometimes, there was just no place in the world for her to hide.

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><p>"You thieving piece of shit."<p>

He dangled Mr. Bunny high and out of her reach.

"You thought I wouldn't find this? You don't get Bunny until you do what I say. So be a good girl or, I don't know, a better thief."

Parker glared at him, unable to look away. Something snapped inside of her, unleashing a kind of anger she had never felt before, fiery and unnatural.

It threatened to grab hold of her soul and to lash out against this man looming before her, holding the only thing that she cared for since her brother's death.

Her foster mother stood whimpering in the corner, shaking her head at Parker, pleading with her eyes, as though she had felt the anger radiating from the silent child.

Apparently, so had he.

"Have you got nothing to say to me, child?"

Her silence seemed to unnerve him. Face scrounged up in disgust, he turned around to leave.

"All you foster children grow up to be the same."

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><p>Left standing alone in the kitchen, Parker saw that the sun was still up. She realized then that she might not last another night.<p>

There was very little time to spare before everyone returned. She had to move fast while she had the house to herself.

It didn't take long to find and rescue Mr. Bunny from a trash bag in the garage.

And that was when she spotted the gas tanks.

Parker allowed herself a small smile for the first time in many weeks.

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><p>"Boom," Parker murmured and shifted her body deeper into the couch.<p>

Eliot caught the empty wine glass just as it slipped from her hand. He sat on the coffee table adjacent to the couch and set the glass down.

All was quiet, save for the blizzard raging outside and the soft snores coming from Parker.

"Do you think it's true?" asked Sophie as she sat down next to Eliot.

"What, Parker blowing up her own house? Yeah." He chuckled. "Sounds like Parker."

Sophie smiled a sad smile. They both watched over the sleeping thief.

"Poor, poor thing."

"Yeah."

Eliot moved to pick up Mr. Bunny that had fallen from the couch and tucked it back into Parker's side.

"But she has us now."


End file.
